Leading a Legacy
by Mabby
Summary: A Lord of the Rings-Matrix Crossover: One hundred years after Matrix:Revolutions, and behold, there's a new Matrix.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer- I do not own Matrix or Lord of the Rings, although I pray every night that I did. The characters I own are Micah, Zachary, Sam, Alcon, and Loth. I also own the cities of Aegialeia, Thyone, Eurotas, Isiphties, Cer, and Thersites… and the ship of _Epaphras_… if you cared.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *

Neo is dead. 

I bet you didn't expect me to say that firsthand, did you?

Well, I don't lie. Why should I lie? It has been one hundred years since _the one has left Zion to confront the machines. _

One hundred years since we received word that Neo had perished. Murdered by the machines. There could be no possible way he could've survived.

But he did help us.

In more ways that we could ever know.

According to the history books, Neo had temporarily rendered the machines immobile, allowing an infuriated Zion to strike back in Neo's behalf…

We were reckless, that was for certain. We didn't even know that Neo was dead… it says here otherwise… but I know better. We didn't know. And we still slaughtered the machines.

I think we were wrong. I think Neo's intentions were different. I think that the peace-to-be between us and the machines should've existed today. Basically… I think we really screwed up.

Now… the most excitement that we get is chasing down rouge seekers that have broken away from the city to make a run for it. Hah. 

We soon learned that no matter what it is that you destroy… it'll always come back to haunt you. Sort of… like a bad ghost story. Except… unfortunately… this was reality. 


	2. Beginning of the End

Disclaimer- I do not own Matrix or Lord of the Rings, although I pray every night that I did. The characters I own are Micah, Zachary, Sam, Alcon, and Loth. I also own the cities of Aegialeia, Thyone, Eurotas, Isiphties, Cer, and Thersites… and the ship of _Epaphras_… if you cared.

Mabby: Had this idea buzzing around in my head for some time now. Thought I'd take a crack at it and see what I come up with.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                Pristine, colorless stone erupted in iridescence as a light beacon passed by it. The milk-white carving briefly revealed the sturdy features of a man in a long, ankle-length coat. He wielded a gun in one hand and the other remained holstered at his side. Three were erected behind him, poised, shod in similar attire of the first. Their implied intentions undeniably oppressive in nature. In all… two males and two females.

The heroes of the past… and the _one_…

"Micah!" 

The onlooker turned, startled from his surreal as he grappled for a hold on reality. A familiar, dark-haired figure trotted into his presence.

"Micah," he repeated, thrusting an armful of items into the other, "What are you doing?! You were supposed to help me carry this junk!"

The one referred to as 'Micah' smiled in response, "I'm sorry Zachary, I'll have to be your personal pack mule some other time."

Grinning, Zachary gazed searchingly up at the statue Micah was so fixated on before.

"'Four heroes of many. In the history books they reign, but only _the one may determine our future'," he read aloud, turning to his comrade, "Do you believe that crap?"  
Micah's expression was earnest, "How else could the machine city had become so crippled?"_

"Malfunction," he replied, "A big one. The history books obviously have been altered to bring more glory and pride upon our sorry race."

"But… Neo…"

"Did not exist. Banish those childhood stories out of your head and face reality. The _real _reality. The cold, hard facts. Besides, we need your mind to be focused in order to pilot the _Epaphras."_

Micah's expression remained neutral, therefore Zachary furrowed his brow and peered at him inquiringly.

"Right, Micah?"

"Right… whatever you say Zachary… we'd better get these supplies back to the ship before Alcon leaves without us. This vacant city is giving me the creeps."

"Amen to that. But he wouldn't dare leave without us, due to your ever-so-graceful landing beforehand."

"Oh shaddup."

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

"How was Aegialeia?" 

"Empty Loth, like Thyone, Eurotas…"

"… Isiphties, Cer, and Thersites," Zachary finished, shrugging off his load beside Micah's.

Loth, a chestnut-haired, lanky teen immediately began rummaging through the mess of newly-bought items. Zachary deftly stepped around him, turning to address Micah.

"I'm retiring for the rest of the day, care to tell Alcon 'bout our return?"

Micah began to retort when Loth intervened, missing their incredulous looks.

"I already told him. I was keeping an eye out for you through the viewport and I zoomed in on the scope to see the contents of your bags to find-ooh! There it is! The ice cream!"

The boy waved the container over his head triumphantly, his face falling when it vanished from his grasp.

"Ah ah ah you little weasel. It's not even the real stuff, it's that blasted artificial mix. You know there's no cows-or anything else, for that matter-still alive. I hate the real Earth."

"If you seem to despise it so much, why eat it?" Micah wondered aloud, gathering the mechanical parts he needed to repair the damage to the ship.

Zachary wrinkled his nose, "I'm not. It's for Alcon."

"Alcon?"

"I need the raise."

"Ah. But really, artificial ice cream? That stuff is nasty."

Zachary only shrugged, "Hey, I don't know. He may like it. I'd love to stay and chat about it, but I require my beauty sleep to sustain this attractive glow to my cheeks. Later ladies."

"Zachary, it's only four!"

"Beauty sleep!" he called back. The sound of footfalls gradually faded from the grated hallway.

Loth turned to Micah with wide eyes, "What's a cow?"

The pilot heaved a sigh. Loth was born outside the Matrix-and had never been there-and his parents had kept him ignorant of everything about it. Everything that existed in the past.

He would've remained that way, too, if Alcon hadn't requested that his nephew join the crew of the _Epaphras, _much to the current crew's dismay.

Micah had wanted to show him the Matrix firsthand, but Alcon proved against the idea of his pilot having a hold drilled into the back of the boy's skull. It was a simple procedure, really, and with the right amount of sedative, completely painless. He didn't understand the captain's hesitation. Must be a concern-for-your-kin thing.

"Take the food to the freezers," Micah replied, "And help me install some of this new equipment and I'll give you a detailed description of all the farm animals I can recall."

Loth's eyes lit up at the promise and he dashed from the room, two of the massive burlap bags tucked beneath his arms. 

Micah smiled and hefted the rest of the supplies onto his shoulders, dodging and ducking to avoid passing persons until he reached his destination.

Squeezing into the narrow space between the pilot and co-pilot's seat, he unhooked the control panel's cover and began to replace the burnt and polish off the muck from the connectors.

Micah grimaced at the smoldering damage. Perhaps he would've been better off crash-landing in the larger cavern. At least Zachary had managed to shoot down all those trailing seekers…

"Micah?"

The pilot started, his head striking the roof of the control panel, drawing a loud curse from him. Micah shifted towards the new arrival, massaging his smarting skull.

"Sorry," Alcon apologized, his face curling up into a grin.

His dark, short-cropped locks were plastered to his forehead by an obviously recent shower and his gray eyes once again sparkled with that annoying mirth.

"S'okay," he mumbled, diving back into his task. He heard Alcon's weary joints pop as he knelt beside him.

"Is the damage bad?"

"It's not unfixable."

"How long do you expect the repairs to take?"

"Depends."

"…on?"

"_Epaphras's _cooperation."

"How long do you estimate it'll take?"

"Two hours."

"Shouldn't Zachary be helping you?"

"Loth will in a moment."

"Where's Zachary then?"

"Beauty sleep."

Micah couldn't see him, but he could envision his captain dragging an exasperated hand over his face right about now.

"You know… if he weren't such an awesome gunner…"

"…you wouldn't hesitate on abandoning him in the nearest ghost town," Micah recited, bemused.

"Micah… do you know why the masses avoid the ghost towns?"

"They keep to Zion to avoid any possible seeker attacks," he answered without much thought.

"Not always. They keep to the city because they know Neo's influence will protect them."

"Neo's dead. There's no such thing as his 'influence'. Not anymore." 

Alcon sighed, "You've been taking lessons from Zachary, haven't you?"

"He _does _have a point."

The captain patted his shoulder, "Zachary always manages to have a point. Just be careful about what you believe."

Micah hesitated until he was sure Alcon had left. Shaking his head, he resumed his work.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              

"-and they rode the horses like-"

"Micah!" a white-haired, elderly man cried, skidding around the corner.

The pilot looked up, startled, "Sam? What is it?"

"Zion's sent us on another seeker mission, but this one's different. Alcon wants to see you, right away."

Micah nodded, turning briefly to the disappointed Loth, "Sorry kiddo, we'll continue this sometime tomorrow, alright? Wake Zachary up, tell him to report to the control room or Micah'll shove his bedpost right up his fill in the blank."

He then turned his attention to Sam to follow.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *

Alcon looked up, his expression relieved, when Sam returned with Micah close behind. That was when he knew the situation was more serious than he had suspected.

"Micah… thank goodness… Zion told of another rouge seeker in our midst."

He frowned, "Alcon, this ship is made to destroy rouge seekers, what's so special about this one?"

The captain heaved a sigh, and Micah was appalled to witness the lines of age gathered on his face. He hadn't realized how old his leader had become, thanks to his youthful demeanor.

"The machines seemed reluctant to let this one go. Zion thinks that this seeker may hold some key information to the machine's current plan… if they have one."

"And? We'll just avoid damaging the bugger at all means possible and extract the desired information once we have the little devil under proper sedation. Simple."

Alcon shook his head, "No… it seems this 'little devil' has connected itself to the Matrix where the machines could no longer reach him. To get to him, we'll have to send a locater from this ship to find it."

                                                                ~TBC~  

     


	3. Twisted Freedoms

Disclaimer- I do not own Matrix or Lord of the Rings, although I pray every night that I did. The characters I own are Micah, Zachary, Sam, Alcon, and Loth. I also own the cities of Aegialeia, Thyone, Eurotas, Isiphties, Cer, and Thersites… and the ship of _Epaphras_… if you cared.

*              *              *              *              *              *

                "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Micah muttered, trying to keep his gaze averted from the long, metal point Zachary held securely in his fist.

The pilot maneuvered his wrists uncomfortably, as in to escape, but to no avail. The blasted straps had begun to chafe his skin. He began to work up a grudge against those inanimate leather… things.

Why had be been chosen to go anyway? He was the pilot for cripes sake! He thought that was a wee bit more important than going joy riding in a fake universe.

Although he-according to Alcon-had received the most Matrix-based training, Micah still upheld a vital position on the team. 

Or maybe he was just making any sort of excuse he could to get out of it. Probably. 

He just didn't like the Matrix, or, correction, what it had become.

"Sam'll guide you as soon as you arrive," Alcon reminded him for the tenth time, "Remember, we want the sentinel somewhat intact."

"I know, I know," Micah sighed, turning to look at Sam, who was situated at a nearby computer counsel.

"And for the last time, nothing fancy okay? Jeans and a t-shirt will do nicely, preferably white."

The old-timer nodded sincerely.

"Just because I'm old it doesn't make me clueless." 

"And don't let Zachary talk you out of it, either."

"Awww, come on Mikey, you can trust me!" Zachary protested. He sounded almost hurt, but Micah knew better.

"Call me that again and not even the Matrix'll prevent me from strangling you."

Zachary just looked amused.

"See you later."

"Later," Micah agreed, closing his eyes as the metal slid into place.

The procedure wasn't necessarily painful, almost like when a dentist numbs your mouth before pulling a tooth. You don't feel the actual bone being ripped from its cavern as it should be. Aside from agony it remains a painless but insistent tugging sensation. 

It's the same in this case, yet instead of experiencing a sense of loss afterwards, it stands as a sense of fulfillment. In a way, it seemed almost… right.

Ironically enough, as most know, the Matrix was originally created as a world to occupy a human's mind while our enemies basically downloaded the very energy from our real, physical bodies beyond it, but many feel most secure and comfortable in the Matrix than in Zion, the _real _world.

The freed minds just couldn't let go of their homes, some said, so that was why Zion kept the Matrix intact to 'heal the reluctant minds.' Many refused to leave, and have remained there, as have their children, for these last hundred years. It was rather pitiful. Who knows what their children had done to the Matrix now. It had been five years since Micah had been there last.

From what he had seen on his last visit, he was surprised some physco hadn't of nuked the whole friggin place yet.

The pilot felt the familiar lurch in his gut as he pitched forward into the program, and soon enough he felt solid concrete beneath his boots.

His big, black boots. His HisHis big, black boots with a black trench coat and equally similar sunglasses and a handgun at each holster. 

Micah looked down at himself. Ugh, he looked just like that statue of Neo. Micah sighed irritably and noted to kill Zachary once he got back.

He had ended up on a sidewalk. Or, what was left of the sidewalk, anyway.

Micah winced. Believe it or not, the Matrix had gotten a lot worse since he visited last.

Houses and concrete in areas had erupted into a bazillion pieces, the rubble scattered all over the tanned, nearly black, lawns.

The houses that remained intact held shattered windows, badly dented garage doors, and were swathed in gallons of spray paint. Drunken laughter and rumbling music sounded inside them, and empty beer bottles were just as numerous as the deadened grass on the ground.

Micah screwed up his face in disgust and ran towards the city… away from… that.

_How could __Zion__ of__ let this happen? Why didn't they just delete the entire program to prevent this all?_

Because they don't want them to do the same to Zion, a voice inside of him answered bitterly.

He owed his full allegiance to Zion, so it was difficult to accept the notion, but nevertheless he knew it to be true.

Perhaps the machines had actually been right, if this is how twisted our so-called 'freedom' has made us.

"You're going the wrong way," Sam's gravely voice sounded in his ear, startling him from his stupor.

Micah groaned and doubled back.

Of course, there had to be a catch to this assignment.

                                                                -tbc-


End file.
